


Tepid

by EmeraldWaters



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Bubble Bath, Cunnilingus, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Female Kim Jongin | Kai, Genderbending, Non-Explicit, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 13:18:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14261829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldWaters/pseuds/EmeraldWaters
Summary: Jong-ah's day doesn't start off well.(It gradually gets better).





	Tepid

**Author's Note:**

> I literally wrote the draft for this in an afternoon. 
> 
> While I was in the bath.

 

For someone not _opposed_ to pampering herself, Jong-ah loathes baths.

Well, loathe is a strong word. She doesn’t hate them, per se, but the excessive heat always boils unpleasantly under her already ill-fitting skin and overall, she can’t see the appeal of basking in her own dirty water. It’s odd to have such a deep thought about something so simple as a bath, but Jong-ah has had years to get used to the unusual way her mind works.

 _But,_ in saying that, it’s four o’clock and every muscle in her body is aching from a ten-hour shift. There’s been a headache looming from behind her left eyebrow ever since an intern spilt coffee all over himself and Ward 21’s corridor, and she hasn’t seen Chanyeol in over a week. And so, in what she calls utter desperation, Jong-ah finds herself drawing a bath.

Turning the handle enough to let a small stream of cold water out, Jong-ah uses her right hand to wash the small black hairs ringing the ceramic down the drain; the ones that show that the last time she used the bath was to wash the dogs. _Ew_. She cleans her hand under the tap afterwards, vigorous enough for the three silver bangles on her wrist to clink together.

Sighing, Jongin retrieves the plug from the cabinet under the sink (oh that’s where Jjangah’s spare leash went!) and turns the hot tap on as well.

Another problem with baths is the ridiculous amount of time it takes for them to fill up. Jong-ah isn’t a particularly impatient person, but even by the time she retrieves all the necessary products from the shower - lining them up neatly on the edge - _and_ grabs her pyjamas from their bedroom, the bath isn’t even a third full.

Tapping her foot in time to the music curling from the speaker, Jong-ah juts out her lower lip in thought before turning and crouching in front of the bathroom cabinet again. Triumphant, ridiculously-so, Jong-ah pulls the ‘bath elixir’ from out behind a few other bottles and dumps a good quarter of it into the water. If she’s going to be miserable she may as well smell like ‘marshmallow peach and roses.’ (It’s a pity they don’t have any candles but after Chanyeol almost set fire to their bed after the third time, getting rid of them had been the safer option).

Eventually, the bath is full; inviting wisps of steam curling up from the mountains of pastel-tinged bubbles.   

After stopping the stream of water and burning herself on the hot tap, Jong-ah squints briefly before flicking the light on. Even with the afternoon sun peeking through the frosted glass, the light makes it easier for her eyes to focus. Her glasses she left in the bathroom and the drama of shoving contact lenses into her eyes is not worth it just to sit in the bath. More than an afterthought she also closes the door (it makes her feel less exposed, despite being alone) and lets her clothes drop piece by piece, pooling around her feet messily. In the mirror her tanned skin glows under the warm light, gathering at the arch of her collarbones and dip of her waist and curling under her breasts. Flatteringly.

Frowning, Jong-ah ties her hair up in a half-assed knot at the top of her head.

Her frown turns into a full-body recoil at the burn when she submerges her foot in the water; usual reluctance and carefulness abandoned in the face of frustration. She winces, but stills, letting her skin get used to heat. It becomes an odd sort of staccato process, easing herself into the water, stop and start, some parts of her body more used to the heat than others. (Getting her hips under takes a good forty seconds alone). Once she’s fully in, Jong-ah just kind of _sits._

Because what now? Arms curled around her knees and head rested on them, Jong-ah watches the blurry body of a small spider crawling across the wall. Her social – and just general – anxiety takes up too much room for her to be afraid of spiders. Which is just as well, because although he may be good at a lot of things, Chanyeol is petrified of bugs.

Letting out a long, slow breath, Jong-ah closes her eyes and tries to dispel all her bad thoughts. Easier said than done; she’s not very good at turning her brain off and when she stretches out onto her back, the bubbles don’t even cover her nipples. Which is oddly disappointing.

She closes her eyes. Tries not to give in the urge to fidget. _Why is relaxing so hard?_

Obtaining equilibrium for Chanyeol means music. For Kyungsoo it’s cooking, Jongdae singing, Minseok Jongdae. Jong-ah usually relies on dance but there are often times – like now – that pushing herself to be graceful and to her limits as she works across the stage would only stretch and burn her body to the ground. _Maybe_ inner peace could = Jong-ah x bath?  

She sinks down until her head is against the slope of ceramic, uncaring of the bubbles dampening the back of her head, stretching her legs out until her toes hit the other side. Through half-closed eyes, Jong-ah watches the dance of the water over her body at the accompanying movement. When she stills, the water settles over her body, dressing it in warmth and sweet-smelling suds. Lazily, she rubs the slipperiness of her smooth legs together, her hand drifting to rest on her lower stomach.

For a moment, she can finally feel the appeal in the (ridiculous-sized; _who needs a bath a metre deep Yeol?)_ tub that Chanyeol had insisted upon when they moved in.

But then she hears the tap starts dripping and feels sweat beading across her forehead. Then, even the soft music in the background isn’t enough to distract from the warmth that was so nice before becoming stifling. She frowns, again, lifting her body half out of the water so she can open the window.

But nothing is comfortable now.

Relaxing back down will only make her too hot, sitting up is not nearly as comfortable, and somehow Jong-ah doesn’t quite enjoy dangling a foot over the side.

It’s ridiculous how quickly her mood sours. How a few things, tiny insignificant things, not going quite right just sets her so off-kilter. _So dumb._ (Jong-ah doesn’t claim to be much over average intelligence but the tangles her brain makes when it trips over itself, is very hard to deal with. Especially alone).

_Damn Chanyeol for being away today of all days._

Squeezing her eyes half-closed, Jong-ah sinks low enough in the water to blow a few miserable bubbles.  (Of course, it only serves to get the back of her hair fully wet in the process).

The chime of her phone distracts Jong-ah from her increasingly maudlin thoughts. She dries her hands on the closest towel and reaches for her phone, which is sitting in the middle of the room on top of her clothes. Sinks back into the water with a sore spot on her ribs from the ceramic and a few water puddles marking the path of her arm.

Holding her massive phone over the water with a little trepidation – it does have a waterproof case, but her hands have never been the steadiest – and types a response to Joonmyeon-unnie’s text that takes longer than it should.

She lets the screen go black.

(If good for nothing else, the bath is at least flattering with the glow of droplets it leaves on her skin).

Mouth pulled into a line _because what’s the point of looking good_ _in a phone reflection_ , Jong-ah taps through three pages of apps to find something to do. Opening one, she slides back so her chest is mostly under the water, one leg crossing over the other.

She’s scrolling through Instagram – oh why did Jongdae-oppa have to cut his hair so short _again_ – when the door opens. She doesn’t think much of it at first because Monggu is a clever little deviant when he wants to be.

A body full-on colliding with her changes that.

With a scream Jong-ah drops her phone – thank god with just enough mind to angle it into the laundry basket – and reflexively swings her arm out, slapping loudly against hard muscle. When she opens her eyes, heart rabbiting, her boyfriend is sitting in the splashing water with a wide smile and legs on either side of her hips.

“Chanyeol?” Jong-ah says, incredulity painting her voice high, hand half-covering her mouth. Her other hand scoops the bubbles forward to cover her chest (he may have seen her naked hundreds of times, but it doesn’t suddenly erase her body-consciousness). _Is he really here right now?_

His large hands come up to cup her face, oh so gently. “Howdy,” he says, the absolute _dork_. “It’s good to see you.”

Jong-ah smiles.

Chanyeol’s laugh rumbles through his chest and into her mouth when he presses their lips together. After one, two, three sweet kisses, her eyes open. Realization sets in.

Jong-ah snorts – a habit her parents always told her was too awkward but that Chanyeol says he loves – when she leans back to see the fabric of his dress-shirt pressed wet and partially-translucent to his chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

_But how much better does she feel already?_

“I’ll show you ridiculous,” Chanyeol retorts, because everything is always somewhat a competition for him, and promptly wriggles his body until he is cramped right up against the edge of the bath.

Jong-ah honest-to-god giggles when her boyfriend starts pressing kisses down her water-damp neck. In theory it’s sexy, but in reality, it’s already a mess. Half the water has sloshed out onto the floor, and the press of his soaked clothes is scratchy and grates against her bare skin. Still, she isn’t complaining when Chanyeol dips down to take her nipple in his mouth.

She sighs, her hand curling into his hair. Warmth trickles into her belly.

It’s a different kind of burn; Chanyeol takes his time, kissing up her neck to find her mouth and nibbling at her ears, running hands down her sides and teasing her nipples back into points. Playing her body reverently, preciously, like his favourite guitar, so slowly, that when his calloused fingers finally circle her clit, she’s halfway there.

“ _Chanyeol_ ,” she half-scolds in a tone too breathless and too embarrassed to be fully reprimanding, digging her sharp nails into his shoulders in warning.

Usually, he listens, but today he just sinks a finger into her water-loosened heat. “Sorry,” Chanyeol says unapologetically, staring down at her with sincere eyes. “This is a job too important to rush.”

Jong-ah is easy to fluster (Baekhyun-oppa used to rate the colour she went; from peach right through to firetruck) and Chanyeol’s words warrant a full-on blush. Despite being together for going on four years, he can still make her squirm with just his praise and caring (even with the excessive cheesiness). Makes her feel like the fairy-tale princess her painfully-shy self had given up on dreaming about a long time ago.

Her protest cuts off on a moan as Chanyeol works in another finger, curling and rubbing his calloused fingertips at her walls. Her eyes have already shut from the pleasure. Which makes Chanyeol’s sudden move even more startling.

“Wha!!” She exclaims when Chanyeol lifts her by her waist.

He rolls them over, and Jong-ah half-heartedly winces when another wave of water slops over the side.

“Sit on my face,” Chanyeol says, now reclined on his back in the water, fingers sliding down to hold her up by her hips.

“What?” Jong-ah asks, despite hearing her boyfriend perfectly fine. She’d say her face is a solid strawberry right now.

“Sit on my face. Please?” He pleads, pulling her forward gently, always gently, by the hands dimpling her thighs.

Chanyeol eats her out with a gentleness that never fails to disarm her, hands moving to support the arch of her back, and carefully, exploratory, like he’s following a map he hand-made for her body. Pleasure washes over Jong-ah like waves and she rocks slowly back and forth, not that he needs any help, looking down at Chanyeol so fondly she feels like her heart with burst out of her chest. It’s barely been five minutes when she comes, no chance of holding out under his lips and teeth and tongue and fingers.

“I missed you,” He says against the top of her head when the oversensitivity becomes too much and she lies down against him, her pulse quietened enough to hear his words.

Jong-ah closes her eyes where her head rests on his chest, his heartbeat beating a rhythm in her ear. Her truest truth. “I missed you too.”

But despite the peacefulness of the moment, it’s not at all comfortable. His legs are bent on either side of her body, limbs too long to fully stretch out, and his belt buckle is pressing into her stomach. The water is cooled to an unsatisfying tepid. Still, they stay there until the water runs completely cold and her skin starts to pebble. When she starts to shiver, Chanyeol moves.

“Come on,” he says, shifting into a sitting position. Grabs her robe off the hook and wraps her up in it, careful not to trail the ends in the water. Divests himself of his completely soaked clothes (Jong-ah winces as much as she appreciates the view, the denim could not have been comfortable) until he’s left just in his underwear. He steps out onto the sodden bathmat first and offers his hand.

With a yelp, he pulls her up into his deceivingly strong arms like, “a fish,” Chanyeol teases, earning himself a whack to the chest. “A cute fish?” he says, placatingly.

Jong-ah doesn’t answer just wriggles, curling herself further into the cradle of his arms.

Chanyeol offloads her onto their massive bed and gives her a kiss on the forehead. Even the days where her anxiety makes it hard to breathe, he is only ever a comfort to her. Overwhelmed almost, Jong-ah closes her eyes as Chanyeol leaves the room, forcing herself to calm down.

Then she snuggles into her fluffy robe, grinning, kicking her ankles where they hang off the edge. Her hair is a little painful pressed tight to the duvet but it’s inconsequential; her skin feels so _soft._ Despite her earlier apprehension, Jong-ah’s wrist at least, when she brings it up to her nose, smells heavenly.

In her cosiness, she must doze off, because when she opens her eyes Chanyeol is walking out of their wardrobe (dressed, ~~unfortunately~~ ), towelling the back off his head.

“How long?”

“Were you asleep? Only about half an hour. I just finished cleaning up the bathroom.”

It makes sense, the light streaming through the curtain hasn’t darkened, and the shitty-ill feeling that accompanies a full nap isn’t there. “It was your mess,” she points out.

“True,” Chanyeol grins. “Make sure you’re ready by seven. We have guests coming.”

Jong-ah rushes into a half-sit, feeling the sagging mass of her hair tickle the bared expanse of her back as she leans up on her elbows. “What?”

Chanyeol smiles wider, his right eye squinting more than the left like it always does. “The usual seven, they all wanted to see you.”

Jong-ah flops back down, suddenly giddy. Her smile pulled wide on her face as it does when she’s truly happy.

All of her friends will be here - some who she hasn’t seen for months. _Chanyeol_ organised this. Made what was a really shitty day become so _good_ just by being here. She squeezes her eyes shut at the press of his lips at her forehead, lest she actually cries this time.

“And Jong-ah?” Chanyeol says, poking his head back around the door. He’s so handsome, all 6’4 of him, big ears and big features, brown hair messy from the water. (Jong-ah loves him with all her heart). “Happy birthday.”


End file.
